Flawed
by jbpiggy
Summary: Bobby needs to get a few things straight in his head and decides the best way to do it is write it down. Bobby's POV
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: I don't own Four Borthers or it's characters. What is written is by a fan (me) for other fans. No profit will be made from this story.**

**Big thanks go out to two special people, Lysambre and Fraggle, for helping me with this, and putting up with me.**

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I need to put this down on paper and the amount I have to write would cramp my hand so bad it would end up looking like it had frozen into a claw. I thank the guy who invented the type writer, because without that we wouldn't have Bill Gates' wonderful Windows Word program. Yes I know Windows is flawed but, hey, so am I.

I've done good things and bad things in my life and good things and bad things have happened to me. If I dwell on the bad things in either category it would eat me up. Maybe that's why I need to write this. I need to get my side of the story across and try and ease the ache that seems to have taken up permanent residence in my heart.

I know my path through life will never be smooth, hell, whose is? But I try to be a good person. My temper just gets in the way. My fists fly before my brain engages sometimes.

That's what happened three weeks ago. My temper took over and I wanted to take on every man in Detroit. Problem is I took my brothers along for the ride.

People may have read the headlines about prominent social worker Evelyn Mercer being gunned down in a convenience store robbery, well, she was my mother. The only woman to care for me just I was me, if you see what I'm trying to say. She had a heart of gold and opened her doors to anyone that needed a roof over their head and a warm meal in their belly. She tried to get everyone that came through her door, or whose file came across her desk, a permanent home. Out of the hundreds that she managed to place only my three brothers and me were lost causes in some peoples eyes, don't get me wrong she tried her hardest but in the end we always came back to her, so she did the only thing that seemed right and took us in.

My phone had rung at four that particular morning. Having not long crawled into my bed after a hard night at the local club I bounced at, the last thing I had wanted to do was get back up to answer it. Problem was few people had my home number, so I knew if they were calling it at that time of the morning they either had a death wish or something was too important to wait.

I crawled out of my just warmed bed and answered the phone. My brother, Jack, was on the other end. Even from the simple hey he offered by way of greeting, I knew something major had happened. Before I could ask what he was doing calling me at this hour he stated simply that Ma was dead, shot in a robbery gone wrong, and the funeral was to be held in two days. The words forever etched in my memory.

I remember grabbing the phone pad and taking down the details before uttering an "I'll try to get there." Lame sounding, I know. But it was all I could think of before I hung up. I wouldn't have missed the funeral for anything. I gathered a few clothes throwing them into my bag, made a few calls to explain my quick exit, grabbed my best shirt then threw everything into my car. I drove through that day and the next, pulling off the road to sleep when my eyes refused to stay open a moment longer. The morning of the funeral I was still a hundred miles out so I stopped briefly at a gas station to wash up before continuing the last leg of my journey to say goodbye to Ma.

The turnout stunned me. I knew Ma was highly thought of both at work and in the general community but I hadn't expected so many people to brave the bitter cold that was sweeping Detroit, just for a funeral.

Jeremiah looked the upstanding citizen Ma always said that boy would be, as he stood reading the words he had no doubt spent hours agonising over. Jack broke down giving his eulogy but at least he had made it to the funeral.

Angel, on the other hand, had missed it completely and the wake, too. It wasn't till we opened Ma's front door, long after the sun had set, that we found out why. The Jarhead had missed his flight. Marine's, they can sure as hell follow orders and carry out things no human should be asked to do, but ask them to try and get home on short notice and you might as well ask for the moon.

Jerry said it right that night; it was good to have all four of us under the same roof again. Shame Angel had to ruin it by going out to chase La Vida Loca.


	2. Chapter 2

Ma had been on at the four of us for near on three years to all come back together, under one roof, for a Mercer style Thanksgiving, and I wish now I'd done it sooner. Jack slaved away that Thursday, and man, that fairy can cook. We tried to keep the conversation light, steering away from the thoughts that were haunting all of our minds. Even with all the banter, and the impromptu wrestling match that Angel and Jerry had on the living room floor, the closer it came to sitting at that table the less I felt like being thankful. The thought running around my head was that it took Ma dying to get us all here.

After two bites I did a Bobby, and hauled their asses to the rink. Never am I freer than when I'm on the ice. It had been my escape before Ma took me in, escape from the nightmare of too many homes and more bruises and broken bones than could be counted by a ten year old boy.

Nothing matters out there, no thoughts, no problems, not even time; just the ice beneath my feet, the stick in my hand, and the puck meeting the net. Almost from the minute each one of my brothers came through the front door they were introduced to hockey. Jerry played for me not for himself, like if he didn't play I wouldn't want to be his big brother. Angel on the other hand figured it was a good way to get his two favourite things, money and woman, although I'm not sure which takes top place in his mind. Jack, well he had to fight for everything in his life and with us lot as brothers he didn't stand a chance. The only way he ever got us back was on the ice. He could skate circles around all of us, and his elbows were lethal.

We played till it was too dark to see the puck and took on all comers. Even though we hadn't played together in years we were still undefeated. I wish that that day could have gone on forever but life moves on, grinding away, whether you want it to or not.

The reading of the will was as expected, to a point. Ma had always said the house was to be sold and the profit split between the four of us once we all had our own place. I guess that was her way of always ensuring we'd have at least one place to call home no matter where in the world we were.

Mr Bradford, Ma's Lawyer, set her safety deposit box on the table and left us alone so we could go through it at our own pace. It surprised me that Ma had Jack's papers in the safety deposit box but in a way I'm glad I didn't have any in there as Ma was all I ever wanted in my life. I know she had the house and her little knick-knacks but to realise that that box only contained two hundred dollars really upset me. Not for the fact you're thinking. For the fact that Ma worked her ass off, every hour of every day, and yet this was all she had to leave behind. If I'd have known how tight things had gotten for her I would've come home to help out.

I split the cash, a hundred for Jerry knowing full well that money would go straight to his two girls, Daniela and Amelia, and fifty each for me and Angel. Jacks always been the one that needs the most protection so I thought Ma's Rosary would benefit him more than the money. Plus I knew the money was destined for Johnny G's cash register how ever I split the last hundred.

Jerry drove us the scenic route through Detroit's run down warehouses. When he pulled up outside of one I thought he'd lost his mind. He gave us the grand tour explaining what his dream for the empty, derelict, building was. Personally I think a wrecking ball would have been a better idea but then I'm not the architect. Jerry always did dream big and if anyone could pull it off, he could. Judging by the comments Angel and Jack were throwing Jerry's way, World War III could've broken out at any moment. I suggested getting a real drink before the friendly bickering ended in a brawl.

In a way I wish we hadn't gone to the bar as that was the first step in the road that lead me to where I am now. That night I should have just left it at raising a glass to Ma. But, me being me, I couldn't. Johnny G said he'd heard what had had happened and offered his condolences. I had to bite the bait and ask what he'd heard knowing it was probably something I wouldn't like the sound of.

Long story short, Johnny G told us about a bunch of gang banger's that supposedly had been id'd by a witness. So we went a knocking.

My plans are never spectacular. They normally involve my fist connecting with someone else's face, a bullet flying from my gun or, if I really want to scare someone, I bring out the old failsafe, the gas can. Nothing scares people more than the thought of being burnt alive. I've never actually set light to the gas I've poured on people, I just like threatening them with it. Don't know what I'd do if anyone ever called me on it. Guess I'd have to rethink my planning skills.

With Jacks cigarette inches from the gas soaked little banger wannabe he started virtually crying out the fact the witness was lying. Something about a basketball player witnessing the crime from courts whose lights were turned out over an hour before the shooting occurred.

After going to the court and witnessing it for myself I came to the realisation that either the guy had great eyesight, or he was lying out of his ass. I leant heavily toward the latter option.


	3. Chapter 3

The hardest part of this journey, hands down, was watching those bastards level their guns and shoot Ma. They had deliberately stood in front of her and pulled the trigger. They had the money, they should've been making a run for it. Watching that surveillance tape was hard for all of us, it proved in all of our minds that this wasn't just some random act of violence. They had actually gone out of their way to make sure our mother was dead.

The store owner told us the police had talked to one guy more than the rest when doing their investigation. He was a regular customer at the shop, was always at the courts down the street or at the gym.

I couldn't believe they had set her up. But I did know I wouldn't stop till I found out why Ma had been shot. Problem is I should have, but hind-sight's a glorious thing.

When we left the store I hadn't felt that angry since the day I was adopted by Ma. Okay now that sounds awful. Let me explain why.

I knew from previous experience what it was like to be picked on, beaten, tormented or just plain abused in many forms. I couldn't and wouldn't stand by while anybody hurt someone that was weaker than them. Unfortunately it was one of the few times I didn't hold my punches.

The kid on the receiving end of my fist was called Martin Judd and he was the biggest, dumbest, bully in the school. Martin thought of himself as the big fish in the pond preying on all the little fish, the weaker the better. That particular week he'd set his sights on Marcus, one of the few people I could call a friend. Marcus was in the foster care system as well. I never had to explain or defend myself with him, and that was a rare thing back then. We helped each other out, I taught him hockey and he helped me with my school work so I wouldn't have to repeat the year.

I can remember walking down the hall that day, turning the corner and slipping on what I thought was a newly mopped floor. Well as I keep mentioning my thought process' are flawed and the slippery substance on the floor was coming from Marcus' body. I shouted for help till my voice became a whisper whilst cradling his head on my lap. The last words I heard Marcus utter were a plea to me not to go to Juvie over Judd. It could have been minutes or hours that I sat there, blood soaking into my jeans, 'til someone prised my hands from my friend. Everything after that until I was sat in the ER is lost in a red haze. All I do remember is the pain, my knuckles throbbing like you would not believe, but no memory of why.

It wasn't till Ma took me to the police station on my release from hospital that I found out that Martin was in a medically induced coma and had needed extensive surgery. I was lucky to only be facing an assault charge and not a murder charge.

The look in Ma's eyes had told me how disappointed she was and my heart sank even further when she handed me an envelope. I never thought that handing me the papers for the one thing I had wanted most in the whole world, a family, would hit me harder than any punch. The police released me into her care and we drove in silence back to the house.

Balloons, streamers, food and a cake that read 'welcome home Bobby Mercer' was the sight that greeted me. I sank to my knees and actually cried. This woman had taken me in, loved me, cared for me, even adopted me, yet I had basically thrown it all back in her face by going against everything she had been trying to teach me. I remember apologising over and over as the tears refused to stop. She just held me all through that night, whispering promises that all would turn out good in the end.

A week later I was up before the judge, I got six months. At the time I thought that was harsh. Now, looking back, it was the best thing for me at the time. It taught me to rein in my temper or, if I couldn't rein it in, at least try and not get caught. It also taught me that no matter what I did I would still be a Mercer, and Ma would always be there for me, no matter what I did to disappoint her.

My blood was boiling when we left the store. My heart pounded to the rhythm of my feet, taking us straight to the gym across the road. If my brothers hadn't been with me that day, I don't think I would have made it off the court. It's certainly not the most sensible thing I've ever done. Interrupting a basketball game, and pulling a gun, normally never ends without blood all over the court.

Wasn't till Jerry pointed out Cracker Jack trying to get our attention I realised what I'd done. At least some of Ma's lesson's stuck as I apologised and wished them a nice day. Jerry just shook his head and followed Jack out of the Gym with me bringing up the rear. Angel and Jack had caught this kid, Keenon, leaving the gym. Figuring if he was in that much of a hurry to leave he must have something to hide. Turns out they were right, the witness was his brother, Damian.

I didn't expect the kid to sell out his own brother, I know I wouldn't if the roles had been reversed, so I grabbed his book bag hoping to find something that might help us out. The kid's report card led us to an apartment block just round the corner, and the four of us freezing our asses off waiting for the guy to come home.

Jerry bailed on us after about an hour, saying something about the girls having gymnastics. This left the three of us, Jack, in the back singing up a storm and drawing on the windows like he'd done as a kid, Angel and me in the front. I wish I'd never introduced Jack to Cool Hand Luke as he never stops singing that Plastic Jesus song.

Just when I thought I couldn't stand another verse about the sweet Madonna dressed in rhinestones, Jack pointed out the window straight at the guy. Me being me, I pulled out my gun before shouting to Damian. He took one look at the three of us and bolted into the elevator. That's when the running started. When Jack called to say he'd stopped on six I remember the groan I let out, but on the bright side I had beaten a fully trained marine in a foot race.

I've never been an animal lover, mainly because of the fact most animals were treated better than I was as a child but I would never go out of my way to harm an animal. I never understand the people who claim to love animals then use them for their own protection, knowing full well that if they are used against someone, they are going to get hurt. Damian is one of those assholes. I have the scars on my arm to prove it.

I didn't know where the dogs ran off to because by the time Angel had finished playing fireman with the extinguisher on them I couldn't see a damn thing, my eyes burning. I needed to get something for them and that came in the form of a bottle of water. Sweet relief followed but damn was I pissed.

Damian wasn't in the apartment when we got in there, but there was a rope trailing out of the window, and yet again my thought process slipped up, I stuck my head out the window and was rewarded by almost getting it blown off. Angel stepped up and tried to play the protector. You'd think that with all the training they give the US Marines that he might have learnt to shoot straight by now but no. Looking around my eyes found a cleaver and yes I acted first before my brain engaged. Once I had cut through the rope I did briefly consider that it had been a bad idea but once I saw Damian was still alive the thought drifted away like it had never even been there.

I don't think I can ever eat spare rib again after seeing the mess the fall had made of Damian's leg. After some negotiating, okay us threatening to leave Damian out in the cold, he gave us a description of two guys and where to find them. I was half tempted walking away not to call the paramedics and if it wasn't for Jack being with us, I would have left him to rot. Once I'd given the details over to nine-one-one I hung up and never looked back.

My sights were now set on the people that had killed the best woman I had ever known.


	4. Chapter 4

Parking out the back of the casino, I switched off the engine and for the first time stopped to think about what I'd do if the shooters were inside. The casino itself wasn't top notch or even average, but it was popular so I knew that we couldn't just roll in there guns blazing. Didn't mean I was stupid enough to walk in unarmed though. I made sure the other two had something in case things turned sour.

Sour, well, that was the understatement of the year. The shooters were sat at the in bar drinks in hand, as if they didn't have a care in the world. The Fairy had to point them out, drawing unwanted attention to where we were stood. Two bullets flew our way, before the shooters ran out the bar with us following hot on their heels. I was most impressed when Jack took a few pot shots at the car speeding from the lot. Never thought my little sister had it in him.

Again my brain didn't engage and soon the three of us were flying through the streets of Detroit, in the middle of a blizzard, using the car in front as target practice. If I'd have thought it through I might have had a working car at the end of that night.

Yes, we did catch up to them and, yes, I felt the power of death over life. Now those two men are facing their final judgement. But it cost me my car and a little piece of my soul when I saw Jack's face after we sent those guys to meet their maker.

Before Angel had come to Ma he had been a hustler. Not through choice but through necessity. His so called father earned a living by charming his way into a woman's heart and home. Angel was the icing on the cake, with his dimples and winning smile, he was the distraction whilst his father cleaned out the house and bank account in very short order. His father just wasn't quick enough in leaving town one day and that brought Angel into the foster care system.

For months Ma found her money going missing and turning up under Angel's mattress. The need to steal so ingrained in the charming eight year old that even Ma despaired at times. By the time he stopped stealing from Ma he was like a permanent fixture anyway, all that was left was an official stamp and to change his surname to Mercer.

That was easier said than done though. Angel's father had changed their names so many times even he had a hard time remembering what name had been put on Angel's birth certificate. It took a full court to revoke parental responsibility and make Angel a ward of the state. Finally after a long drawn out process that took near on three years, I ended up with a new baby brother.

Angel had always been able to handle himself. Out of the four of us Angel was the most like me, although he lacked the anger issues. He had the muscles to back me up in a fight. He was the one I rarely worried about. I knew that where ever this road was leading he'd be right there with me.

By the time we managed to dump the car and make our way home, the sun was dawning making the world look crisp and new. Jack ran to his room the minute we entered the house and as much as I had wanted to go after him and make sure he was alright, I knew going up there would only lead to a full blown fight. So I did a Bobby and went to the fridge for a beer instead.

I felt so worn that morning, good but worn. That was until I peeled off the jacket and shirt from my arm, then all I felt was the throbbing. Until that point I had forgotten all about the dog and the vice that was its jaws.

Unfortunately for me Sofi decided that very moment to walk into the kitchen. Without a word she got out the first aid kit that Ma had used to patch us up more times than I care to remember and gestured to the table. With a nod I sat and clenched my jaw against the burn that hadn't even started.

I don't know how Detective Green did it, but before Sofi had finished cleaning the dog bites on my arm he was walking up to our back door. Old habits die hard. I remember Ma laughing each time Green used to knock the front door to see if I was coming to the rink. She got so fed up with answering the door that she told him just to use the back door as nine times out of ten I was in the kitchen eating.

Those had been good times back then; we'd watched each others backs. My second stint in Juvie was down to the fact someone had got a lucky shot in on Green and he was out cold on the ice. I really should have put my stick down before I went for the guy. It would've saved me a five month stretch and maybe even my friendship with Green. After I got out his Mom refused to let him go down to the rink or even come within ten feet of me. We still talked at school but it wasn't the same. Funny really, each time I've been behind bars I've lost a good friend.

I knew I could count on Green to give me a chance to explain myself, but the stiff he'd been saddled with as a partner looked like he would try anything to pin a charge on someone, even his own grandmother. I could have laughed in his face when he pulled an evidence bag from his jacket and tried to say the hair inside was mine. Even Green laughed at this. I could see the anger rising in Fowler, the stiff, and before I knew it he was heading toward Angel threatening to lay him out. If Green hadn't been there I guarantee that Fowler would have had to have been carried from the house.

Green had a point; I had been knocking on the devil's door. What he didn't get was that I wanted someone to answer. I needed to know who had hired the shooters.


	5. Chapter 5

The desire to know led us to the apartment of Sidney, the not so friendly neighbourhood shooter. We'd got the address from the guy's wallet the night before. I was definitely in the wrong job if these guys could afford the apartment me and Jack found ourselves in. Judging by the arsenal under the mattress we'd come to the right place.

The guns were immaculate. Cleaned and primed to perfection. I've never owned a gun that cost more than a hundred bucks so who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth. Once I'd packed them in the duffel bag I found under the bed I went to see what Jackie Boy had come up with anything. A digital camera and bad taste in music apparently was the sum of his haul.

Once home we laid our findings out on the table just as Jerry walked through the front door, shaking his head at the mess he saw the house was in. I knew he was right. Ma would be disappointed in us if she knew the state of the place. I can see her face even now. She had that way about her, she never got angry she just got this look and that look was worse than any beating any one of us took before we became Mercers'.

I had planning to do that night and wasn't about to waste time with cleaning. Without missing a beat I shouted to Sofi to get the place cleaned up. I didn't really expect her to hurl a dish cloth at me. Angel must have taught her to throw though, as she missed.

The camera Jack found proved the most useful find of the night as it revealed numerous photos of Ma with her lawyer, Bradford. If they had all been taken on the same day I would have left it at that, but there was over thirty photos taken over a period of two weeks. At that point I knew this lawyer must have known more about Ma than he had let on to at the will reading.

Angel turned up just in time for the family road trip. Sofi wasn't happy, something about a meal and quality time. I stopped listening the minute she opened her mouth.

If I'd have known then what I know now I might have picked up on the tension between Angel and Jeremiah but, as always, unless its written on a billboard in ten foot high letters I suck at picking up on moods.

Bradford's house was exactly what you'd expect for a rich upstanding member of the community. Shame he didn't invest in a quality alarm system, it would have stopped us breaking the window in the study door, okay maybe not stopped but we might have thought twice. Maybe he thought his cotton ball on legs was enough protection, ha, only if you can be licked to death.

Jack was the one to call up the lawyer's diary on the computer, and notice E.M. entered a lot of times, stretching back almost a year. As my lawyer's have said in the past, the evidence was purely circumstantial. It was like doing dot-to-dot without the dots being numbered, to get the full picture we were going to have to talk to the guy.

As my mind came up with this the peaceful night was shattered by the screech of a car horn and the howl of a Latino banshee. The crazy girl had followed us and was hell bent on exposing what we were up to. I know Angel loves her from the bottom of his heart, and I hate to hurt my brothers, but damn I was willing to silence that girl permanently that night.

To make matters worse, as we left the house to silence Sofi, pulling into the driveway was none other than the owner of the house. Not that I'm predictable or anything but I acted without thinking, pulling the man from his car and trying to slap some information out of him.

The information we got was not what I had expected. Sure Ma had dated whilst we were all growing up but no one stuck around long once they realised she had four boys with records as long as their arms. So to be told that she had been dating Bradford for almost a year, well, it was a shock to the system; but to find out that she'd been spending the night at his place just plain gave me the creeps. I never pictured Ma in that sort of position. Okay, I need to leave that train of thought right there.

I apologised, realising that this man must have been grieving just like we were. The drive home that night was long and silent.

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Our house has never been one to stand on ceremony. Ma was always up before us boys so she was always showered and dressed long before we rolled out of our beds. That left us the run of the bathroom, which meant basically an open door policy, well after Jeremiah locked himself in one day.

It must have been a few nights after he arrived, I remember walking up the stairs, after getting back from hockey, and just seeing him dashing out of my room. Of course the first thing I did was yell at him, so he changed direction from his room to the bathroom, knowing there was a lock on the door. Before I could take more than two steps the bolt slid home and Ma was pounding up the stairs to see what all the yelling was about.

Three hours it took that day to talk Jerry into opening the door, poor kid had only been putting a thank you note on my bed for the Red Wings jersey I had left for him that morning. Ma explained about Jeremiah's past as she took the lock from the bathroom door. He had been taken from his mother's house because, although she fed him and made sure he was warm and dry, she never interacted with the kid, just used to serve the food then get on with her life. Abuse through stimulation deprivation, or something along those lines. Until he went to his first day at school the kid had never spoken to anyone, and the noise that greeted him seriously freaked him out.

The school sent him for all sorts of tests to see if he was slow. It took them almost three months to figure out why he was the way he was and another two months before the mother admitted that she couldn't cope and signed away her parental rights. If I had known that I never would have yelled at him then. It took almost three weeks for Jerry to forgive me. It took me a lot longer to forgive myself.

Where was I? Oh yeah, open door policy. Jack had got to the shower first that morning unfortunately for him I needed to take care of some business. Armed with a newspaper for entertainment, I wasn't expecting a full out family gathering, but that's exactly what I got. I also got more up close and personal with Angel's anatomy than I ever wanted to be. How the hell should I know if he's caught something from Sofi? Don't get me wrong I've slept with a fair few women but I've never rode bareback in my life. Angel breathed a sigh of relief when Jack diagnosed his problem as a plain old rug burn. One day that boys luck is just going to walk out on him.

It was then that Angel dropped the bomb about how Jerry's life wasn't as rosy as he had painted it to be. Apparently Jerry had got involved with the wrong sort of people and the city had shut down the loans for his project, leaving Jerry with a mountain of debt. I can't believe Angel told me that and then walked out. I swear he picked that precise moment to tell me because he knew I couldn't just get up and run after him.

Seen as Angel didn't share where he was going with us, me and Jack headed down to city hall to try and find out the reason behind the city shutting the warehouse project down. I tried the civil approach but Councilman Douglas refused to talk, saying this is not the proper way to appeal. Luckily for me I bought along some persuasion. Jack had groaned about doing the "gas thing" again, what can I say but I'm a pyro at heart, and I only ever do it when Jacks there as I need his nasty little smoking habit to light the gas.

Douglas talked and gave us the name Sweet, Victor Sweet. With that I did my normal thing and thanked him for his time and left. Just as we got outside Angel phoned and said he needed to talk, by the sound of his voice it was important. He told me where he was and we grabbed the car. Once I've finished writing this I really need to get a new one, driving around in Ma's makes me feel like a little kid again.


	6. Chapter 6

**A big thank you to all who have taken the time to review. I'm glad you are enjoying the story. Only two more chapters after this one.**

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We met up at the bowling alley a few blocks from home. Angel was propping up the bar and turned to order two more beers as we walked over to him. I was right as to how important it was. Turns out Jerry owed a lot of money round town and just so happens he got a check for four hundred thousand from Ma's life insurance.

Trying to wrap my head around the facts, I sipped my beer, praying that my brother couldn't possibly be involved but also seeing the evidence in front of me. Turning to leave, Jack called to me pointing across the lanes. There stood the man in question, Jeremiah Mercer, handing over an envelope to an old friend of his, Evander Pearce. According to Angel, Evan was working for a guy named Victor these days. All the dots were starting to link and I didn't like the pattern I was getting.

There was only one thing that that envelope could possibly contain and it was Ma's blood money. Jerry left before the three of us could cross the lanes. But I couldn't leave the money with Evan. I'm surprised I kept my cool in there, if his kids weren't there I know I would have launched myself at him.

When we left, with the envelope safely tucked in my coat pocket, I couldn't think straight. The thoughts running through my head were not making any sense. Driving normally has a calming effect on me, but this time it wasn't working. I pulled over and tossed the keys to Angel, before I ended up totalling another car. Half way home I told Angel to head to Jerry's house.

Only the fact that I couldn't let my nieces see me attacking there father, saved Jerry from a beating that night. Angel set up a family meeting for the morning at Ma's, before taking us home.

I couldn't sleep so sat staring out the window until the sun rose. The light making the snow gleam white and pure, giving the neighbourhood an almost innocent look. The image was fleeting, as soon the clouds rolled in the snow took on the typical dull grey of a Detroit winter. This reminded me of the night Jack literally fell into our lives.

The three of us had been down at the rink whilst Ma was off Christmas shopping. We'd taken on all comers until the skies grew dark and the lights were finally switched off. Once we pulled off our skates, we started the long trudge home. Normally we would have driven, but Ma had the car, so I had to listen to Angel and Jerry whine as we made our way through downtown Detroit.

We knew every alley and street that would take us straight home in the shortest possible time; we'd done it a thousand times before. The difference this day was the sound of breaking glass, and the kid that flew from the first storey window to land awkwardly in our path.

The kid didn't even cry out, he just tried to stand and walk away, a task made impossible by his already swelling ankle. I told Jerry to stay with the kid as I took off my jacket and sweater and wrapped them around the kid's frail frame. With a look to Angel we made our way up the fire escape to the apartment with the broken window.

Inside the place stank, I'm talking the smell of years of neglect. The apartment door stood swinging back and forth on its hinges, and footsteps were rapidly fading into the distance. We had two choices, give chase and the boy probably wouldn't make it through the next thirty minutes outside in this temperature, or get the kid to a doctor. I returned to the alley and lifted the boy as carefully as I could into my arms, trying to keep the anger roiling inside me at bay. As much as I hated hospitals I knew that was where we had to go.

When we arrived, we didn't even know how to answer the questions that were being thrown at us. The boy had long since passed out from the pain. All we knew was the name of the alley we found him in and the fact someone had thought it would be fun to use him as a personal punch bag. They rushed him through the double doors and into a trauma room, leaving us to sit and wait. Angel had phoned Ma telling her we were at the hospital, but what the idiot neglected to mention was that it wasn't one of us hurt. She'd come tearing into the ER, expecting the worst, only to see all three of us sat there cold but healthy. The tears that fell from her eyes were ones of pure relief, until I told her about the boy we'd brought in.

She raised hell that night trying to find out who the boy was and what had happened to him. By six the following morning we had a name and a list of injuries the poor boy, Jack, had sustained. Some were old, some new, all painful and things that no child should have to experience. The fall had shattered his right ankle, his left forearm was broken in two places, right shoulder dislocated, numerous rib fractures although judging from the boot print on his chest these were from before the fall. The bruises that covered his body looked like storm clouds, some were so deep they'd bruised bone.

Ma told me that night that she would do everything in her power to help Jack, and she did. If she wasn't at work she was at the hospital with him. It took a month to get him fit enough to leave the hospital and another before he stood unaided.

When Jack finally talked about what happened to him it turned out that he hadn't been thrown from the window but jumped just to get away. He broke down explaining what had been done to him in the years he had been living rough. I remember thinking that he was tougher than he looked. Come off it, how many kids survive three years on the streets. Especially one that wasn't even thirteen yet.

To cheer him up I went and bought him a present, and as he unwrapped it I explained that if he feels like jumping again at least strap on the wings he was opening. And thus was born the Fairy. Nobody ever got charged for what happened, but to this day, I wish I could meet the person responsible in a dark alley and give them a taste of their own medicine.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry this took a few days to post, but it has really been the hardest part to write. It has been rewritten so many times I hope you like the result.Thank you to all who are still reading, the final chapter should be up tomorrow.**

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When Jerry's car drove past the front window, and pulled up on the drive, I could feel my anger rising. I'd been pissed off at my brothers before but this time it was different. Never have I felt this sort of rage against one of my own, and I didn't know whether I could stop myself from just laying Jerry out the second he walked through the door.

I managed to last about fifteen seconds before my fist connected with Jerry's jaw, and he went down hard. The fear I saw in his eyes reminded me of when he'd first come to the house, but I couldn't allow that to get in the way of finding the truth. I give him credit, he got back up and got a good punch in on Angel, sending Angel crashing into the bookcase. Standing his ground, he took on board what we were accusing him of. Our words wounding him more than the punch I threw.

He'd been paying all Ma's bills, and his own, even after his business was shut down. He'd refused to pay for protection, so Sweet used Douglas to shut him down. The money he'd given Evan was to get his business started up again. After finding out Jerry's side I didn't know whether to hug him, for helping Ma through a rough patch, or slap him upside the head, for being dumb enough to pay the money in the end. I could see it in his eyes, and by the way he was reacting, that he was telling the truth.

With all the fighting and the accusations being thrown around, I missed Jack leaving the room. I hadn't expected him to stay as long as he did, but as always the fairy surprised me. I looked toward the stairs, making a mental note to check on him, and that's when I noticed the front door wide open. My heart lurched, you know that feeling where it jumps into your throat then sinks into your stomach and fills it with dread.

I can remember running to grab one of the shooters shotguns, from the bag under the table, then charging to the front door. If it had been an innocent caller I would've apologised later. For some reason my instinct was screaming that something was wrong, and I haven't lived this long by ignoring it.

I barrelled through the front door, but before I could get through the porch I heard the one noise I never wanted to hear outside my house. Pausing at the porch door I saw Jack fall to his knees. Blood started to spread across the back of his shirt at an alarming rate. The guy in front of him, wearing a hockey mask, levelled his pistol straight at Jacks head.

Without thinking I snapped up the shotgun and fired, watching the guy fall to the ground. My body stood frozen as Jack struggled to his feet and half ran, half stumbled, toward the house. He'd seen what I failed to notice, more guys in ski masks, toting enough firepower to start a small war, pouring from two vans down the street. They opened fire, and I saw Jack fall for a second time that day, bullets ripping through his legs.

My survival instinct kicked in and I dived back into the porch, as the bullets flew my way. My heart broke each time Jack screamed for me, the person that had saved him in that dark alley years before. The person who had always promised him no one would hurt him again.

I managed to take out two of the gunmen before being forced to wait it out, as all hell broke lose around me. I don't know how long the actual shootout lasted, it felt like hours; hours of me praying Jack was okay; hours of me laying on the floor being unable to help him; hours of not being able to fight back.

In reality it must have been no more than five minutes, and they were the longest five minutes of my life. When they stopped to reload, I knew it might be my only chance. Seizing a brick from the floor I launched it out the door at one of the gunmen, followed quickly by myself. It was one of those moments where I don't remember how long I pounded on this guy for, but my knuckles would pay the price later.

I could hear Angel calling to me but I couldn't stop my fists from flying, needing to vent the rage inside. From out of nowhere Angel tackled me sideways. As I was about to royally chew him out for ruining the good swinging rhythm I had set up, Jerry's Volvo ploughed into the van I hadn't noticed heading my way.

It was then I realised the bullets had stopped flying. Scrambling across the front yard I made my way to where Jack laid in the freezing snow. His face pale and lined with pain, blood pooling around his body at an alarming rate. His breathing ragged. His eyes were shining, saying more than he ever could with words, as his eyelids drifted shut.

Guilt and despair ran through me, as my heart stopped and my blood ran cold. I needed answers, as to who was behind all of this, and I needed them now. Grabbing up a gun, I stormed over to the van, wrenched open the door, and levelled the barrel to the driver's temple. If my brain had been in charge of my actions I would have left the guy alive so the police had proof as to who ordered this but my trigger finger has always had a mind of its own. I still managed to get the answer I had been looking for. Sweet was the one who had sent them. Sweet was the one who would pay.

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Green arrived just as the last body bag was being zipped up. I told him Sweet was behind all of it and he didn't bat an eyelid. What surprised me is when he told us that Ma knew what was going on with Jerry's business, and had filed a police report against Victor Sweet and Councilman Douglas. Fowler had then handed the report straight to Sweet, sealing our mother's fate. She'd been killed for trying to protect her son.

Green left us with two promises, first, the report on the shootout would say that we acted in self defence, secondly, he would deal with Fowler. If my head hadn't been spinning, from all the events and new information it had to process that day, I would have been right there beside him. Maybe then he wouldn't have been shot, left to bleed to death, in an alley not five hours later.


	8. Chapter 8

There were two constants in the days after the shootout, guilt and pain. Guilt for dragging my family along on my little vendetta ride. Pain because beating on that guy had done some serious damage to my left hand. This little bit of info I kept to myself. I felt as though I deserved to suffer for what had happened.

It wasn't too hard to keep a sweater pulled over it and use my right hand to do things instead of my left. Everyone was running on empty, the emotions drained what little energy we had, the clean up took the rest. Small details were lost in the grand scheme of things.

When Jerry came up with a plan to pay Sweet off, I couldn't help but laugh, for once Jerry was the one coming up with dumb ideas. If he thought giving Sweet the insurance money would result in us going back to a normal life, he was dumber than he looked. We needed a plan to take out Sweet for good and make sure the cops were elsewhere when we did it.

Angel surprised me by coming up with the idea to take care of all of our problems at the same time. Angel would take care of Fowler, leaving me and Jerry to deal with Sweet. Problem was Sweet gave us only three hours notice for the meet, leaving us with little time to set all the wheels in motion. We had to get the insurance money, and proposition Evan and the rest of Victor's goons. Even though we were running around like mad men, it felt good to actually be doing something, as it stopped me thinking about the past, and focused me on what still needed to be done.

Camille, Jerry's wife, made me swear I'd look after her man. If I had had my way I would have gone alone. I knew if anything happened, to either Jerry or Angel, it would be the final straw for me.

Waiting in Jerry's house was hard. Patience is definitely not a virtue of mine. The ring from my cell phone was the sign that all the pieces were slotting into place. All players were on the field, and now the game had to be played.

Jerry left for the meet with Evan, and I followed hanging back a little, till we reached the lake. My mind briefly wondered if we would all make it to see the sunset that night, but I shut the thought down because if I started thinking like that I knew I would lose. Getting out of the car was the easy part. The mile I had to jog to the centre of the lake was painful to say the least, each step jarring my already painful hand. I remember saying to myself, once this was all over, I was going to down a nice bottle of whisky, then pluck up the courage to see a doctor about whatever was wrong with my hand. I just needed to make it through the day alive.

When I could make out the different people stood on the ice I slowed to a casual walk, giving myself time to get into the right frame of mind. A hot-headed response here would've seen me in a watery grave, dropped through the hole in the ice, found washed up on a beach when spring arrived. Cool and calculated was the way to go. I know what you're thinking. Bobby Mercer only does hothead. Well you'd be wrong, I went into that fight as calm as if I were buying groceries. Alright not that calm but I looked it, I think.

The difference between Sweet and me was he'd been taught to box, where as I'd learnt to fight to survive and my survival instinct was strong. My fists flew, connecting almost every time. Victor got a few good hits in to my face and ribs, sending me sprawling onto the ice. In the end the better man got the upper hand. I waited on the ice long enough to watch him disappear into the frozen depths beneath my feet. Grabbing Jerry, we slowly walked back to the car before calling Angel to find out how things went down on his end. Sofi answered his cell and told us to get to the thirteenth precinct. I hung up before she could tell me anything else.

If I'd known that his plan would have entailed a shootout with the police, I would have slapped his stupid, bald head till it had some sense knocked into it. Come to think of it, that's probably why he didn't tell me the full plan. Angel was at the Police station being questioned by the police as to why they had had to shoot one of there own officers. Angel had played Fowler, well and truly, making him believe the police pulling up outside his house were there because they knew he was on the take, when in fact they were there thanks to Sofi's Oscar winning performance. She'd told the police officers at the station that Angel intended to kill Fowler.

By the time we reached the station someone had reported Victor Sweet as missing, they gave no details other than the fact he didn't turn up for a meeting. Green must have filed a report about Sweet being a suspect for the shootout at Ma's, and what with the black eye I had forming on my face the police put two and two together and came out with five as usual.

Most would scream police brutality if they went through the interview rooms the way I did, but my sense of humour has always been a bit twisted. I think its fun to taunt, and try to crack, the calm, cool officer doing the questioning. In my long term relationship with the Detroit Police Department, I think, there have only been three genuine Police Officers that have interviewed me, two have retired and the third is now six feet under.

After a few hours they had to release me as no evidence could support a charge. When I saw Angel and Jeremiah waiting for me, by the custody sergeant's desk, I couldn't help but smile. Judging by their split lips and black eyes they'd taken a leaf out of my book and thrown a few insults into their interrogation. Nothing like telling a guy you're banging his wife to get a rise out of him.

I felt every minute of my thirty two years as we left the station. My hand had stopped throbbing, and was now pure fire, my face felt like someone had used it as a punch bag, and the less said about my ribs, the better. All I wanted to do was get home and wash all the blood and grime away.

Once home I ignored all calls to drink to the demise of Sweet and headed upstairs. The plan had been a quick shower, then to head off to the hospital. But, the minute the warm spray struck my body, the realisation of what had occurred in the last three weeks also hit me. I broke down and cried, sinking to the floor of the tub. Great sobs wracked my body, and at that precise point in time, I didn't care if the whole world could hear me.

I didn't hear the footsteps, or the door open. I just felt the water shut off, as I sat in the bottom of the tub shivering, a warm towel and gentle arms surrounded me. Sofi held me until I could cry no more, never once commenting. For all the shit I have and will give her, I am eternally grateful to her for that one moment. Once I'd got myself back under control I climbed out of the tub, pulled her to me, kissing her forehead by way of thanks. She left without a word, and slowly I pulled clean clothes on before heading to the hospital.

The verdict from the doctor was three small breaks just below the second, third and fourth knuckles on my left hand, four weeks in a cast and some heavy duty pain killers for that and a colourful bruise to my ribs. The cast has made typing this up difficult but putting it all down on paper, so to speak, has helped clear my head some.

Losing Ma was hard. Watching it happen, even on film, was harder still. Seeing Jackie get shot wrenched my already broken heart from my chest. I couldn't see him wired up to all the machines before I had come to terms with the fact that I might lose him too.

Now as I sit here the only machine in the room is a heart monitor and the only thing left is for the fairy to open his eyes and call me all the names under the sun for not coming when he called. The doctor's have told us the only reason Jack survived was because of pure luck, I say it was the Rosary he was wearing.

He'd been hit a total of seven times. The most severe wound was his shoulder. The bullet had torn through his ribs, his lung, surrounding muscles and punched its way out through his shoulder blade. The two bullets that struck his right leg went clean through with only minimal damage. The four that had struck his right leg shattered his femur and one got lodged in his knee. The Doctors say he will be able to walk, after a few more surgeries and a hell of a lot of physio, once he wakes up.

This little piece of writing has acted basically like a therapy. All I have left to say is that I intend to stick around this time and make sure my family stays out of trouble. I've seen Jack fall three times now, and I'm, sure as hell, going to stick around to make sure it never happens again.….

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**I hope you have enjoyed reading this. I had to let Jack live as a certain someone I know hates the fact he dies in the movie, although she's not the only one. I may start another story that continues on from this, but it will take me a while as summer vacation has started and that means fun in the sun with my girls. xJx  
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